


I See

by Vienamarie



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fontcest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:12:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8755681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vienamarie/pseuds/Vienamarie
Summary: Sans and Papyrus raise their child, Otis.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Otis belongs to Gasterass on tumblr.com! I just wanted to write about him, haha.  
> Forgive the choppiness, I wrote these chapters one after the other at 3 a.m.

It was Papyrus’ idea to have a baby. They’d been together for a few years at this point, and incestuous relationships among monsters wasn’t considered all that taboo. Plus, they were the only two skeletons in the entirety of the Underground, so they kind of had to be together if they wanted to make _more_ skeletons. Sans was not opposed to having children. He’d raised Papyrus from infancy after their father had vanished in the Void, after all; what was one more kid?

Apparently, a big fuckin’ deal.

Conceiving the child required a lot of magic on the part of both partners, and Sans had elected to carry it first. For the first few weeks, their child was just a small, almost invisible blip of a soul in Sans’ stomach that required little to no energy to host. As time passed and it got bigger, though, the skeleton was running out of both stamina and magic, and passed it gingerly off to Papyrus.   
He, too, grew exhausted after hosting the growing soul for a length of time, and passed it back to Sans as he regenerated his strength. This was the pattern they developed; carry it until you exhaust yourself, swap, rest, take it back, carry it until you exhaust yourself, swap, rest, take it back, repeat.

It was highly effective, so much so that they grew lenient during the process, and that’s where it almost went fatally wrong. 

oOo

“OKAY, SANS,” Papyrus huffed, yawning. He was in dire need of a nap, and didn’t want to risk his womb vanishing in his sleep. “I’D LIKE TO TRADE.”

“Kay, I’m comin’,” the smaller skeleton replied. He hopped onto the table so their chests were of equal height and his eyes lit up a familiar cyan. Papyrus’ glowed orange in response, and they started the long-practiced procedure of passing the baby between them. 

As Sans’ womb was just about to finish forming, however, Papyrus released his hold on the child too early. Immediately it began to fall.

“Papyrus!”

In his surprise, Sans didn’t catch him fast enough, and the baby hit the ground with a loud _crack._ Both of them froze, audible gasps leaving them, and Papyrus’ hands glowed green as he fell to his knees and began to heal the baby’s rapidly fading soul.

“S-SANS, HELP ME!” He cried. He was slowing the decay, but their child was fading fast. Sans hadn’t moved from his spot. “SANS, GOD _DAMMIT!_ ”

The shorter male jolted out of his shocked daze, falling to the floor in front of him. His trembling hands blazed the same shade of green as they poured every bit of magic they could into preserving the life of their baby.   
For a moment, nothing was changing; the soul was still fading, and Papyrus looked ready to scream. Suddenly, though, it started growing ever so slightly larger. It was being restored, and Sans was crying in relief.

“P-Papyrus, it’s okay,” He stammered, voice uncharacteristically shaky. It was almost two pitches higher as he spoke to his sibling. “B-breathe, look, it’s w-working, it’s working!”

They continued to heal the baby on the ground, and kept doing so long after its soul stabilized and its wounds healed the best they could. They healed their child in a fit of paranoia until they literally didn’t have any magic left aside from keeping themselves alive to do so.

For a moment, both laid on the ground next to their baby, panting harshly from the effort and staring at it. Then, Sans reached out and shakily cradled it in his hands, looking it over.

“I-it’s alive…” he murmured. “It’s alive…it’s breathing….”

Something indiscernible crossed over Papyrus’ face for a moment. “…is it…okay?” he asked, the quietest Sans had ever heard him in his life.

The skeleton’s gaze flickered back to the child. Their chest was rising and falling steadily, but there was a large crack running over its left eye to the nose; it was the impact point from when it had hit the ground. Sans flinched as the moment replayed itself in his mind, shaken to his core with guilt he couldn’t begin to claw himself away from. 

“It’s hurt,” He forced himself to say. Papyrus lifted his hands and tenderly took the baby from him, looking it over intensely. “P-Papyrus, I’m sor-“

“No,” he snapped, his tone still soft. It carried a harsh cadence as he glared at his older brother. “Don’t _do_ that. We both dropped it and we both saved it. It was an accident.”

Sans, shaken, could only nod. “It was an accident,” he repeated; an accident he’d drown in for years to come, regardless of Papyrus’ consoling words. 

It could have been prevented. He desperately wished he could have prevented it.


	2. Chapter 2

“Otis, can you see me?”

The small skeleton frowned, squinting his sockets. Brief pain emerged from the crack over his left socket, but it dulled quickly enough. Moments later, he shook his head and threw his hands up in defeat.

“I can’t see you, daddy,” he said, irritated. Sans hummed, reaching out and drawing him into his lap. He stroked the top of his skull in just the right way, making the child smile and cuddle into him in content. “I can’t see any’fing.”

“That’s okay. You can see me when you use your magic, right?” Sans inquired. He rocked idly back and forth in his seat, some sort of MTT cooking show playing on the television in front of them. He reached for the remote and turned it off. Otis nodded in his arms, palming at his eyes with two mitten-covered hands. The poor boy’s phalanges were too sharp, still, and he’d accidentally scratched himself more than once. 

“Yeah,” mumbled the child, clearly distressed, “but I get really tired when I do that, daddy.” He dropped his hands, staring sightless into the middle distance. Sans rubbed his back soothingly. 

“That’s okay,” said the older male. “You don’t have to see. There’s plenty of blind monsters in the Underground, just like you. We’ll teach you how to move around without sight.”

Otis furrowed his brow, irrationally angry. “But I _can_ see sometimes,” he exclaimed, clenching his gloved fists. They dug harmlessly into his palms. “Just with magic! But I get tired when I use the magic, and then I can’t see again! I wanna see all the time, daddy! I wanna see all the time!”

“I know,” said Sans, holding him closer to his chest. Otis clung to him, tears at the corner of his eye sockets. “I know. But right now, until you get better at using your magic, we just have to be more careful when you’re blind. You’ll get better, don’t worry.”

The child didn’t appear convinced. He just kept fidgeting in his grasp and palming at everything within reach. Sans withheld a pained sigh and turned Otis to face him.

“Hey,” he murmured calmly, stroking his chin. The boy opened his sockets, lightless voids staring in the direction of his father. “Do you remember what me and Papa tell you?”

“…yeah,” he mumbled. 

“What do we say?”

Otis turned his head away. Sans gently guided it back up, and he gave in. 

“That you love me,” he said slowly, “no matter if I can see every’fing or no’fing at all.”

Sans nodded, though it wasn’t seen. “That’s right. What else do we tell you?”

“That…” he said, “I’m special?”

“You are,” he agreed. He leaned over and gently nuzzled the top of his skull. Otis giggled despite himself at the sensation. “You’re our special little boy, and we love you very much, Otis. Never forget that; okay?”

The little skeleton nodded, letting Sans thumb the tears away from his eyes. Summoning what magic he could, his eyes lit up bright green and focused on the taller male before him. Sans smiled at him in response.

“Okay, daddy.”


	3. Chapter 3

Papyrus couldn’t stop pacing. He would stop for a few seconds and sit down, or adjust something that had already been adjusted before, and then start right back up again. The longer it went on, the more Sans’ irritation grew.

“Papyrus, you’re gonna pace a circle into the floor if you keep this up,” he eventually stated, rising from the couch to grasp his arm. The taller skeleton stopped and turned to him with worried eyes. 

“HE’S BEEN GONE FOR SEVERAL HOURS, NOW,” he blurted. “SHOULD WE LOOK AGAIN?”

“We won’t find him,” Sans replied, something bitter in his voice. “Not if he doesn’t want us to. We just have to wait.”

Papyrus pulled his arm away, crossing them over his chest with a huff. 

“I DON’T LIKE IT,” he said. “HE’S BEEN SNEAKING OUT OF THE HOUSE A LOT, LATELY, AND WHO KNOWS WHAT HE DOES WHILE HE’S OUT THERE!” He reached up to adjust a picture frame on the shelf, stopped himself, then adjusted it anyway. “HE’S BLIND! WHAT IF HE GETS HURT? WHAT IF SOMEONE TAKES ADVANTAGE OF HIM? WHAT IF HE GETS STUCK SOMEWHERE AND CAN’T FIND HIS WAY BACK OUT?”

Sans opened his mouth to respond when the sound of the front door opening stole his attention. A sheepish-looking Monster Kid stood in the entryway, holding Otis’ hand in his tail. 

“Uh, hey guys,” he said. “Otis said he got lost, so I brought him back…” His words trailed off as he glanced between the two skeletons, sensing that he really didn’t want to stick around, and released the smaller kid. “Um, have a good night!”

He turned and hurried back out the door, stumbling and landing on his face, before he picked himself up again and continued away. Otis closed the door behind him and immediately Sans and Papyrus rounded on him.

“Otis –“

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED WE WERE?!” Papyrus snapped, clutching his son close and bringing him in for a tight hug. The smaller male grunted in his arms. “SANS AND I SEARCHED FOR YOU FOR THREE HOURS! WE DIDN’T KNOW WHERE YOU WERE!”

“That was kinda the point…” Otis mumbled, shrugging off his father. Papyrus looked hurt by his gesture but it went unseen by the blind monster. “I came back, didn’t I?”

“Otis,” Sans tried again, clearly angry. “You can’t keep doing this! You’re blind, and you don’t have a good enough handle on your magic yet to be by yourself!”

“I can’t _get_ a handle on my magic if you won’t let me practice,” he snapped, looking down at the direction of his dad’s voice. He’d grown taller than him, now, which smugly amused Otis to a large degree. “Lay offa me, will you? I needed space.”

“If you want space, ask for it,” Sans hissed, fed up with his son’s attitude. “We’ll gladly give it to you, Otis. The least you could do is tell us where you’re going. What if you’d gotten lost and no one was around to lead you back home?”

“WHAT IF YOU’D GOTTEN HURT!?” Papyrus exclaimed. “YOU AREN’T EVEN OUT OF STRIPES, YET! ANYONE COULD EASILY OVERPOWER YOU!”

“Yeah, whose fault is that!?” Otis snarled in a fit of anger. Both of his parents’ eyes widened, though he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t fuck _myself_ up! It was _you guys’_ fault! You’re the reason I’m a freak!” He let out a grunt and shoved his way past them, feeling his way upstairs and slamming the door to his room shut.

“TCH, THAT BOY…” Papyrus stared after him with a disappointed frown. He uncrossed his arms and looked to Sans, opening his mouth to ask him what he thought they should do. The words got stuck in his throat, though, seeing the shorter male palming at his eyes.

“Fuckin’ kid,” he mumbled, laughing mirthlessly, and sank to his knees. Papyrus knelt beside him a moment after. “Knows how to push buttons, that’s for damn sure.”

“DON’T CRY, SANS,” the taller skeleton pleaded, holding him close. “HE DIDN’T MEAN IT.”

“’Course he did,” he said, breath hitching. “He should…he wasn’t lying, Papyrus.” He shook his head, more tears running down his skull. To his credit, he was doing a commendable job of withholding his sobs. “I dropped him – “

“WE _BOTH_ MADE A MISTAKE,” Papyrus quickly interrupted, taking his face in his hands. “WE BOTH MESSED UP THE EXCHANGE, SANS. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.”

Sans didn’t meet his eyes. Papyrus nuzzled him soothingly and drew the male into a hug.

“WE ALSO BOTH SAVED HIM, DIDN’T WE? HE’S STILL HERE. HE’S GROWING UP.”

“He’s irreparably scarred.”

“WOULD YOU PREFER A DEAD BABY OVER A BLIND ONE?”

Sans flinched. “No,” he murmured, and the other skeleton hugged him tighter.

“NEITHER WOULD I,” He said firmly. “WE SAVED OUR SON, AND WE’RE RAISING HIM THE BEST WE CAN. THAT’S ALL WE CAN DO AT THE END OF THE DAY, ISN’T IT?”

The smaller male didn’t have a counter argument, so instead he wrapped his arms around Papyrus and nodded. 

“You’re right,” he mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

Papyrus offered him a smile. “YOU DON’T HAVE TO APOLOGIZE FOR CRYING, SANS. EVERYONE GETS UPSET SOMETIMES.”

“I know,” he sighed, shuddering. He began to calm down and pulled away to stand. “We should…probably go discipline our kid. Damn, I wish he hadn’t inherited my bad mouth.”

“SO DO I,” Papyrus smirked. Sans cracked a smile and shook his head. 

Upstairs, Otis hugged himself and leaned his head against the bedroom door, trying to stifle his sobs. 

He hadn’t meant to make his dad cry. He was supposed to get mad, not sad!

“I just wanna be a normal kid,” he mumbled, emotionally and physically exhausted. He closed his eyes, silently praying to anyone who’d listen for some improvement. “I won’t misbehave if I can just… learn to see. All the time. I just want to see my parents all the time…”


	4. Chapter 4

“Hold it.”

Otis could feel sweat running down his skull and groaned, the magic in his eyes burning with effort.

“Hold it.”

He panted harshly through his mouth, the world around him beginning to blur and dim like it usually did.

No… no!

“Come on, Otis!”

“…G’ah!” he cried, his energy vanishing in a puff and his vision blackening once more. He collapsed into the snow and fought to regain his breath, hearing his father approach and kneel beside him.

“Fifteen minutes,” He said, pocketing the stop watch. “You’re getting better, Otis. Y’beat your old time by two and a half minutes.”

That was good. Improvement was good. He’d been training to maintain his sight for several weeks, now, and Sans was keeping track of the durations, encouraging him all the while. His arms encircled his son and helped him sit up, letting him rest against his chest with a smile.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, rubbing small circles in his skull. “That’s as long as a walk to the River Person, Otis! You’re getting so much better!”

“Th-…thanks, Dad,” Otis mumbled, swiping his arm across his browbone. “W-wow, two and a h-half longer? That’s…good…god, I’m tired.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll carry you inside and buy you some Nice Cream,” Sans said. He gently broke away from Otis and stood, brushing snow off his shorts, then flicked his wrist. His left eye lit up blue as he lifted his son up and began walking back towards the house. Otis was more than happy to be carried inside, the scar around his eye burning from overexertion and his bones weak with spent magic. “What flavor do you want?”

“Hnn…Berry Nice Day,” the child mumbled. Sans lowered him onto the couch before releasing his hold, cyan reverting back to plain white as he placed his hands in his pockets. “Thanks, dad.”

“No problem, kid. I’ll be back soon; try not to wander off,” he smiled, turning to head back out the door. 

Otis frowned, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. “…dad?”

Sans stopped at the door, turning around. “Yeah, bud?”

“I’m sorry.”

The male shifted his weight to one foot. “For what? I’m not following.” 

Otis turned his head in the direction of Sans’ voice, mouth opening and closing a few times before he heaved a sigh. “Um, I’m sorry…for saying what I did…to you and Papa a few weeks ago.”

“What did – oh,” Sans sighed, shoulders slumping. “Kid, I – you were upset. Everyone says things when they’re upset.”

“Not you,” He insisted. His bones screamed in protest as he forced himself to sit up. “Or Papa. When I make you mad, you don’t raise your voices…well, Papa doesn’t raise his any louder than normal… a-and you don’t say mean things to me even though you probably can.”

Sans shrugged. “You’re young, Otis. Your father and I have gotten plenty mad at each other growing up. God knows how many times I’ve heard his ‘outside’ voice when he wanted me to pick up my socks.”

“…you…you don’t pick up your socks, dad,” Otis smiled.

“You’re right,” Sans smirked, “but that doesn’t mean I haven’t heard him scream about it. We’ve exchanged such a large amount of malice over the years that we kinda… don’t have any more.”

The skeleton closed the door and walked over to the couch, collapsing next to his son and looking up at him with something deeply nostalgic. 

“God, you’ve gotten so big. I remember when you used to fit in the palm of my hand…” he mumbled, reaching up and delicately tracing over the scar on Otis’ eye. The younger skeleton closed his socket to allow better access, leaning into his father’s hand. “I know I’m not the best parent sometimes, but I’m trying, Otis. You know that, right?”

“Of course, dad,” he breathed, opening his eyes again to look in his direction. “I know.”

“You’re gonna find things that you don’t like about me,” Sans said, “and about Papyrus. That’s okay. You’re allowed to express your anger.” His hand faltered, dropping away from his son’s face and landing on the couch cushion. “What happened to you was an accident that can’t be fixed, and…I’m trying to make up for it. We both know you’d be a lot better off if we’d been more careful, and I’m never going to stop regretting that.”

Otis grimaced. He didn’t want his dad to feel guilty for something that was out of his control. “I shouldn’t have thrown it in your face.”

“…maybe not,” Sans shrugged. “But don’t keep it to yourself, either. It isn’t good to bottle things. Eventually you’re gonna reach max capacity and the glass is gonna break… if something’s bothering you, please talk to one of us. It doesn’t have to be me, it can be only Pap, and vice versa. We won’t tell the other one what you said if you don’t want us to.” He flexed his fingers. “Just…please don’t vanish all day again. You really freak us out when you do that.”

The younger skeleton turned his face downwards. “Okay…I love you, dad,” he said.

“I love you, too. Very much,” said Sans. He stood again, nuzzling the top of his skull, then drew back with a smile. “We’re producing more sap than a tree. I’m gonna go get your Nice Cream, ‘kay?”

“Mhmm,” Otis nodded. Against his better judgement, he pooled as much magic as he could into his eyes until his father was in view. “Have an _ice_ trip.”

The headache he received from over expending his magic was worth getting to see Sans’ eyes light up and a pleased grin threaten to split his skull.


	5. Chapter 5

Otis was acting out again.

Schooling was hard enough for the skeleton, possessing an HP of only 20 and capable of a maximum of 20 minutes of sight. Some of his teachers refused to slow down so he could mark notes down in his special notebook, and his friend wasn’t always there to walk him from class to class.

But did he really need to be bullied on top of that? He was _blind_ for Asgore’s sake, he couldn’t even fight back!

At least, he’d thought he couldn’t. It was the middle of the school day and the bell had just rung for lunch. Dolly, a white owl that had made it her goal to be Otis’ personal best friend and guide from class to class, stood up to retrieve their lunches, leaving him temporarily alone at his desk. He tensed as he heard familiar footsteps approaching him.

“Hey, freak,” Cyper sneered, a gopher monster. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Sitting,” Otis answered dryly. Apparently that was funny to Cyper, because he shoved Otis almost hard enough to send him out of his chair in laughter. “Leave me alone.”

“Why? Don’t you wanna be my friend, freak?” he cooed, tilting his head mockingly. He held up his hand. “Hey, how many fingers am I holding up, Otis?”

“Piss off, Cyper,” Dolly hissed as she returned. Cyper glared at her and swept his leg under her feet, watching her fall to the ground with a shriek. 

That was new. Usually he left her alone and only teased Otis. A foreign feeling began to bubble in his chest.

“Leave her alone!” Otis snapped. Cyper turned back to him and actually did shove him out of his seat this time, watching him sprawl to the ground with a laugh. His HP went from 20 to 18.

“Make me, freak,” He taunted, grinding the heel of his shoe into Dolly’s short tail. She let out a screech, swiping in vain at him with her talons, and the feeling in Otis’ chest grew.

“I said,” he growled, sitting up. To his surprise, he could call magic into his eyes faster than he ever had, the world revealing itself to him in a whirl of shapes and colors until the gopher was crystal clear in his sight. “Leave my friend alone!”

Cypher barely had any time to face Otis before his soul was drawn into a battle. 

oOo

Papyrus was waiting in the office when Otis was escorted in. He stood and quickly took hold of his son’s hands, looking him over for damage.

“ARE YOU INJURED?” he asked, checking his stats. “16 OUT OF 20!? WHAT DID YOU DO!?”

“Cypher was picking on my friend,” Otis scowled, drawing his hands out of Papyrus’ grasp. In truth, he was incredibly relieved it was Papa here, and not Dad. Sans would’ve been a scarier force to reckon with than Cypher. “I had to defend her, Papa, you don’t understand.”

“YOU SHOULDN’T EVER SOLVE A CONFLICT WITH FISTS, OTIS,” Papyrus scolded. “HOW DID YOU EVEN ENGAGE A BATTLE WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE OFFENSIVE MAGIC?”

“I…made bones,” he said softly. “Don’t ask me how, I dunno…I just was mad, and… and made bones! I don’t know, Papa!” He turned his head away and crossed his arms. “I _won_ , in case you wanted to know…”

“WELL, I’M JUST GLAD YOU DIDN’T TAKE ANY SERIOUS DAMAGE…” Papyrus sighed, exasperated. He took him by the hand and turned to the principal. “IS HE BEING SUSPENDED?”

“It’s a hard call to make,” he replied. “Cypher started it, but Otis does have to be punished…” He drummed his fingers against the desk and tsked. “Two weeks of in-school detention. If this happens again, he’ll be under threat of expulsion.”

“I UNDERSTAND,” Papyrus said, then wished him a good day and began walking out of the building. Otis let himself be lead home, dragging his feet angrily. “…SANS WILL HAVE TO BE TOLD.”

“No!” He exclaimed. “Why!?”

“HE’S YOUR DAD, OTIS.”

“And so are you! Why do we have to tell him!? He’ll just get mad and ground me,” Otis cried, tugging in vain at his father’s grip on him. It was solid like steel, unrelenting. “Papa, please…”

Papyrus sighed. “…WE WILL NOT LIE TO HIM,” He said firmly, and Otis immediately perked up again. “BUT IF HE ASKS, WE WILL ANSWER HIM. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

“Yes!” He said. “Yes! Thank you, Papa!!”

The older male rolled his eyes and sighed. Otis had him utterly wrapped around his finger.

oOo

When they got home, Papyrus healed Otis back to max health and sent him upstairs to do homework until dinner. When Sans returned, they all sat together in the living room to eat.

“How was school, Otis?” Sans asked casually. Both he and Papyrus stiffened, and the skeleton narrowed his eye sockets. “…uh…somethin’ wrong?”

“…DO YOU WANT TO TELL HIM WHAT HAPPENED, OR SHOULD I?” Papyrus asked his son. Otis could feel the anger rebubbling in his chest and crossed his arms.

“Cypher started picking on Dolly,” he growled. “I told him to stop, Dad, I did! Twice! He didn’t listen!”

“What happened, Otis,” Sans said, and it wasn’t a question.

“…I pulled him into a battle,” he mumbled. “And won.” Sans’ fork clattered to the plate and he almost choked on his food.

“W-what!?” he exclaimed, and stood. He placed a hand over his son’s chest to check his stats, turning to Papyrus. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner!? Or right away!? I had my phone on me all day long!!”

“YOU WERE GOING TO FIND OUT EVENTUALLY. I DIDN’T WANT TO DISTRACT YOU FROM WORK,” Papyrus explained calmly. “SANS, OTIS IS NOT INJURED.”

“He pulled a kid into battle!” He snapped. “That’s plenty of cause for concern, regardless as to whether he was hurt in the process!”

Otis smacked Sans’ hand from his shoulder with a scowl. “I knew you’d freak out,” he said. “It was no big deal! I defended my friend! Why are you mad at me!?” 

“Because you don’t have offensive magic! How did you pull somebody into a battle and win, Otis!?” Sans asked. “You don’t solve your problems with violence, it just breeds more violence! Now the next time that Cypher kid sees you, he’s gonna try to pull you into another confrontation!”

“And I’ll beat him again, like I did the first time!” He shouted, slamming his fist into the table. His magic reacted, eyes glowing green and a bone manifesting from the air as his father came into focus. “Stop talking to me like I’m completely defenseless!! I could kick Cypher’s ass and I can kick yours!”

Sans’ eyes widened in surprise, completely unused to the amount of magic emanating from his child, and took a step back. “Otis, calm down,” he said.

“I don’t have to!” he snapped, his hand moving in an arc. The bone responded, moving in the same pattern as it hovered.

“OTIS, PLEASE STOP WAVING YOUR ARM AROUND,” Papyrus chimed in, standing up from his seat. 

“ _Stop telling me what to do!_ ” he shouted, closing his eyes with both hands clenched in fists. He stomped his foot and swept his arms downwards in a physical display of anger, unprepared for the sounds plates shattering and bone colliding with bone. 

All at once, it was like the world slowed down. He opened his eyes again and felt his soul stutter at the sight. The table was overturned, food and broken dishware littering the ground. Papyrus had been struck with the table and was lying on his side, clutching his skull with a groan. 

What was probably the worst sight, though, was Sans, the lights missing from his sockets in shock, impaled by a bone right through his ribcage. His arms, which had been up to shield himself, dropped to his sides.

“W-well,” he choked, the sound ugly and thick. Blood spilled from his mouth has he exhaled, his ribs rubbing against the protruding bone to produce a gross noise. “At least we kn-kn-know you can def-fend yourself…” 

Otis had never been more grateful to have his sight fail him after that. He wished his hearing would do the same so he could’ve blocked out Papyrus screaming Sans’ name in blind terror.


	6. Chapter 6

For two weeks, Otis missed didn’t go to school for anything except the detentions he earned from drawing Cypher into battle. Dolly visited him every day to drop off homework and relay what had happened in all her classes, as well as check in on his general wellbeing.

“Is your dad getting any better?” She asked, waving at Papyrus as he left the house and brushing snow from her boots. She shrugged off her backpack as she entered and pulled out his assignments, setting them on the coffee table before turning to him. Otis faced forward, sockets dark, and shrugged. “Okay, you don’t have to talk.”

The owl hummed absentmindedly as she sat beside him, her amiable presence filling the room as she began doing her homework. 

“I’ll get us some food when you’re hungry,” she said. “And I’ll help you with the math if you want. Ms. Bindle is having us calculate imaginary numbers. _Imaginary_ numbers! Who needs those in the real world?!”

Otis shrugged again, verbally unresponsive. Dolly didn’t take offense; he’d been like this every single day except the first. The day after he’d attacked his father, Otis hugged 2HP out of her and sobbed openly in her arms. All she could do was comfort her friend and make sure he was doing okay afterwards, and now visited every day to help him keep up with schoolwork. 

Papyrus was eternally grateful for her. He’d been too worried about his husband to focus on Otis as of late, and left for the hospital as soon as Dolly came by after the end of the school day.

“Should I make burgers today? Mama taught me how,” She asked Otis, tapping her pencil thoughtfully against her beak. “Or maybe water sausages? What all do you have in the fridge?”

Otis shrugged. She wasn’t surprised or offended. 

“Well, if you don’t choose,” she teased lightheartedly, “Then I’ll just fetch us some mice to eat. I love mice, you know. There’s probably a bunch crawling around the walls –“

“I almost killed my dad,” Otis blurted, the first he’d spoken to her in days. His grim tone made her cringe. “I almost killed my dad because I couldn’t control my magic.”

Dolly paused, then clicked her tongue and set her pencil down. She leaned back on the couch and scooted closer to the skeleton, crossing her arms. “But he’s alive.”

“He’s _stabilized_. That doesn’t mean he’s gonna wake up again,” he snapped. Dolly knew his anger was internalized. “I’m a monster.”

“Tch, so am I,” she said, trying to lighten the situation. “The Underground’s full of ‘em, buddy.”

Otis was not amused. The owl sighed and reached up to place a hand on his shoulder, using her thumb to rub small circles in the bone. The skeleton didn’t shrug her off, so she took it as a good sign.

“Otis,” she said, “Sans is gonna wake up. You didn’t kill your dad. Don’t you have any faith in him?”

“Faith has nothing to do with getting a bone shoved through your ribcage,” he snarled. 

Dolly withheld a frustrated huff. “I mean, he’s probably been through stuff like this before. His HP is like 4, isn’t it? That’s dangerously low, dude. There’s no way he’s lived this long without ding-dong ditching Death’s door at least once.”

The skeleton almost snorted, his face instead adopting a brief grimace. “I guess,” he conceded.

“See?” she smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “He’ll make it. You gotta believe in the guy…maybe you should visit him in the hospit –“

 _”No,”_ he stated immediately, and finally pulled her hand off his shoulder. “I can’t. I can’t face my dad after what I did. I can’t do it.”

The owl stared at him a moment, as if analyzing a painting in a museum to find some deeper message hidden amongst the brush strokes. “…is that why you haven’t used a scrap of magic for two weeks?”

His silence was enough of an answer. Dolly looked down, then let out a breath and stood.

“I’ll be back,” she promised, pulling her boots back on. She adjusted her coat before leaving Otis alone in the house, silence reacquainting itself to him in an uncomfortable manner.

His bones, normally weak and sort of achy, now itched with unused magic. His cache was full and ready to be put to work, and that frightened him immensely. 

He wanted to see again. He wanted to see anything; the television, his clothes, the snow, Dolly… hell, he’d settle for looking at his homework! But right as he prepared to summon magic into his eyes, flashes of that day would smack him in the face and he’d choke up. Phantom images of the overturned table, of his papa on the ground, of his dad skewered by _his_ attack, bloodied and frightened, flooded his mind’s eye and made him nauseous, and he’d resign himself to the unwavering darkness in his sockets. 

He didn’t deserve to see anything after what he’d done, all because he’d lost his temper.

Otis leaned back against the couch and palmed at his skull in frustration. Papa wouldn’t even speak to him at this point, because he was a horrible son and no one wanted a horrible son. He was a real monster; he was a murderer –

“Otis?” Dolly’s voice cut through his thoughts like a hot knife to butter. “I’m back. D’you have a headache or something?”

The skeleton dropped his hands in his lap and forced the tension from his face, shaking his head. He heard the owl cross the room, the couch dipping from her weight as she placed herself next to him once more. Plastic rustled as she moved, and he reasoned that she must’ve gone to the store.

“I bought you some sour candies,” she explained, shaking the bag. He heard the treats rustle in their packages. “You should eat something. I mean, this isn’t…y’know, food, but you should put something in your body regardless.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled before he could think, “like a bone.” 

Dolly inhaled sharply, and Otis cowed a little. 

“You’re a dumbass sometimes, you know that!?” she snapped. “What’s the sense in injuring yourself, too?! Who would that help!?”

Otis bit back his comment, reasoning that telling her “probably everyone” would land him an ass beating. Instead he rested his face in his palm and turned his head her direction. 

“You don’t have to keep checking up on me,” he mumbled. “I can take care of myself.”

“Obviously, you can’t,” she said. “I’ve peeked in your fridge. There hasn’t been a single new grocery in there the entire time I’ve been over. If you’d use your magic you could make a trip to the store –“

“Why don’t you finish your homework?” he cut in. “That’s what you came here for, anyway. Do mine while you’re at it.”

Dolly rolled her eyes, but dropped it. She dug her hand into the bag, dropping a package of candies into his lap before turning her attention back to her assignments. Silence returned to the house, filled only by the _scritch-scritch_ of her pencil on paper and, eventually, Otis’ teeth crunching down on the sour candy. 

They remained like this for a few hours. Dolly finished her homework in a reasonable amount of time and stood up to stretch her legs, bones popping satisfactorily. Otis grimaced and she chuckled.

“Okay,” she said, “I’m done. It’s your turn.”

“Nah,” he frowned. “I refuse to pop my bones. That’s gross.”

“No, dummy,” she huffed, gesturing to the table. She looked into Otis’ black sockets and dropped her arm. “It’s your turn to do your homework.”

The skeleton lifted his head in her general direction. Though there were no lights in his eyes, she could still see his utter disinterest to do exactly that. 

“Otis, you’re gonna fail out of school,” she frowned. “Do you wanna be held back a year?”

Otis shrugged. They were back to square one again.

Dolly opened her mouth to scold him when Papyrus burst through the door, expression unreadable.

“YOUR DAD IS AWAKE.”

The owl and the skeleton widened their eyes, and Otis felt the magic in his bones buzz with his increased adrenaline.

“H-he is?” he asked, voice meek. Papyrus nodded, approaching the two striped children. 

“SHOULD I WALK YOU HOME, DOLLY?” he asked. The owl shook her head.

“I can get there by myself. You go ahead and take him to the hospital,” she said. She stuffed her homework back into her bag and shrugged it on. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Otis.”

She headed for the door. Otis stood up, posture stiff.

“Tonight?” he blurted, stilling her with the desperateness of his tone. “Will you come back tonight?”

Her expression softened and she absentmindedly rubbed the tip of her beak. “Of course. See you tonight,” she agreed, then left. 

Papyrus reached out and gently grasped Otis by the hand, helping him put his shoes on before exiting the house. 

They traversed hurriedly and in silence. Otis didn’t know what to say, too worried about having to face his dad. 

Would Sans be mad? Would he yell and scream at him? Would he even be aware of his surroundings? The skeleton was most likely on some heavy pain killers while his bones healed, and would be too tired to talk anyway. Otis prayed for the latter.

\--

It wasn’t the latter.

They entered the hospital and Papyrus walked in first, leading Otis by the hand after him. The silence in the room unnerved him, and he wanted to call magic into his eyes to see what was going on. Instead, he shuffled forward until his knees hit the bed, then stopped and waited. 

Silence for one, two, three beats, and then…

“Otis?”

The skeleton flinched. Dad sounded _exhausted,_ voice croaked and quiet from lack of use. 

“D…dad?”

Sans shifted in the bed. Papyrus tried to urge him to lie down but he wouldn’t have it. Otis reflexively tensed as he heard him move closer. 

“Are you okay?”

The child needed a moment to process what he’d said before his sockets popped open, unseeing and in surprise. “Uh…yes?”

Sans frowned. Otis felt his fingers brush gently against his jaw. “There are shadows under your eyes. You haven’t been sleeping.”

The skeleton didn’t know what to say. His father was talking to him like it was any normal day of the week, and he didn’t know what to do about it. 

“How long have I been out?” Sans asked, and he tensed again. Papyrus supplied the answer.

“ROUGHLY FIFTEEN DAYS. IT TOOK FIVE FOR YOUR BASE HP TO RETURN TO ONE.” 

Sans cringed. “Oh,” he said, palming his chest. It hurt, but it was dulled by the medicine being pumped into his marrow. “I’m sorry. It’s probably gonna stay at one like before.”

“L-like before?” Otis blurted. Sans nodded, realized he couldn’t see, then cleared his throat.

“I was a weak kid,” he said, “like you. My HP never exceeded one until I became soul mates with Papyrus and carried you.” The skeleton shrugged, wincing slightly. “It’s just going back to what it always was.”

The child was mortified. He swayed where he stood, feeling sick. 

His dad used to have even _less_ HP than before? If he’d struck Sans with only 1HP to his name then he would’ve made Papyrus a widower, no doubt about it. The thought made his sockets burn with tears threatening to shed and he sniffled, unable to help himself. 

“D-dad,” he mumbled, his indifferent exterior beginning to fall away and reveal the broken mess he really was. He felt his way to the bed and took Sans’ hand, falling to his knees. “Dad I’m sorry…I-I’m so sorry I did that to you, I’ll never ever get that angry again, I won’t fight in school anymore, I won’t use my magic, I won’t –“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sans said, concern etched in his skull. “Otis, slow down, I’m lagging a little on pain meds.” He reached out and stroked the top of his son’s skull in that calming way he always did, and the skeleton began to cry.

He thought he’d never hear his dad speak to him again. He was so afraid he’d never hug him goodbye when he left for school, or introduce him to a future partner, or leave their socks on the ground together just to hear Papa screech at them. He thought he’d have to help carefully spread his dust over his favorite things and get used to one less member of the family.

Stars, _he thought he was going to lose his father_. He sobbed openly into Sans’ lap, who did his best in his state to soothe him and assure him that he was going to be fine.

“Look, they patched me back up,” he said. “This isn’t the first time I’ve come close to kicking the bucket, Otis. I’m okay, I promise.”

The male still wasn’t convinced. He blubbered and wept, clutching his dad’s hand so hard it hurt, the tarsals and metatarsals of their bones grinding together.

“Otis,” Sans said, aghast, “please calm down… look at me.”

He gasped, shooting back and almost running into Papyrus, who steadied him with a hand. “NO!”

“Why not?” Sans asked. 

“IT’S NOT AS IF HE’S COVERED IN BLOOD,” Papyrus chimed in, concerned. A flash of that day return to Otis’ memory, of blood pooling from the wound and Sans’ mouth, and he almost fell to his knees. “OTIS, WHAT IS THE MATTER? AREN’T YOU HAPPY HE IS OKAY?”

“Th-that isn’t it!” he cried, hugging himself. His magic buzzed and raced through his body excitedly as his soul pulsed rapidly behind his sternum. “I-I can’t…I’m dangerous.”

“I don’t understand,” said Sans, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was an accident, Otis. I know that and so does Papyrus.”

“I lost control,” he mumbled, trembling. “My magic is buzzing…I can’t use it, dad, I’ll hurt you again! Or Papa!”

Papyrus and Sans exchanged a look, Sans’ holding questions and Papyrus’ holding confusion. The taller skeleton placed his hands on his son’s shoulders.

“OTIS,” he said. “IS THIS WHY YOU HAVEN’T BEEN SEEING?”

“Yes,” he said. “I can’t…I can’t, I’ll lose control of it and cause more damage!”

“I don’t think you can do that just by looking around, Otis,” Sans reasoned. “Your eyes can’t exactly shoot lazers.”

“What if they can!?” he cried, alarmed. He covered his sockets and Papyrus gently pried them away again. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, dad! I don’t want to be a bad monster!”

He turned, pushing Papyrus away and rushing blindly out of the room. He felt his way down the hall and outside, taking off aimlessly.

“Otis, come back,” Sans called. “Otis!”

“SHOULD I GO AFTER HIM?” Papyrus asked, turning to his soulmate. He was torn between looking after the male who’d been unconscious for two weeks and checking up on his son. 

“…No,” the skeleton sighed. He slumped into the mattress and seemed to deflate a little, exhaustion showing itself prominently in his face. “Let him have some space to breathe… he’ll find his way home again, and when I get out of here we’re gonna have a long talk about the accident.”

Papyrus flinched, the memory deeply embedded in his mind. “…I’M GLAD YOU’RE AWAKE,” he said. “I HAD COMPLETE FAITH YOU WOULD REAWAKEN, OF COURSE! I JUST…” his expression softened along with his voice. “…I was scared. You weren’t responsive to anything…not my healing magic, not the operation to set your ribs, not anything.”

“Makes sense,” said Sans. “I kinda blacked out after I was, well, impaled. I was probably in shock, Pap.”

“WELL, I’M GLAD YOU’RE OUT OF SHOCK,” Papyrus stated, back to normal volume. Sans smiled. “I WILL ALSO BE GLAD WHEN YOU COME HOME. YOU’RE GOING TO BECOME THE LITTLEST OF SPOONS! I’LL SPOON YOU UNTIL YOU TURN INTO AN ACTUAL SPOON!”

“Oh, man. That’ll be quite a _scoop_ ,” Sans smirked. 

“OH, GOOD, YOU’RE MAKING TERRIBLE JOKES AGAIN, SO I KNOW ALL IS WELL. YOU SHOULD BE DISCHARGED RIGHT NOW. I’LL GO GET THE NURSE,” Papyrus quipped, rolling his eye lights. 

“Heck yeah, let me outta here and away from these scratchy sheets,” he smirked. “You can keep me warm at home.”

Papyrus blushed orange. “YOUR LIBIDO ALSO REMAINED UNDAMAGED, I SEE.”

“You gonna complain?”

“HEAVENS, NO! I’LL GO FETCH A DOCTOR RIGHT NOW!”

\--

Dolly hummed softly as she walked amongst the Echo Flowers, listening to pieces of past conversations emerge from their ethereal petals. She had almost made it home when she heard it; the sounds of someone stumbling blindly through the caves.

Turning, her eyes widened and she rushed forward to seize Otis by the arms. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed, worriedly hugging him close. The skeleton was panting harshly, and dried tear tracks stained his skull. “Otis, what are you doing!? Weren’t you at the hospital with your dads?”

“I don’t want to be a bad monster,” he blurted, shaking like a leaf in her embrace, “I don’t want to hurt anyone, I don’t –“

“Okay, man,” she said, disturbed, “alright! Calm down, nobody’s hurt right now. Just…” she glanced futilely around her and sighed. “Uh, look – you can come to my house for the night, okay? Lemme call your pa and let him know so he doesn’t think you ran away.”

Otis considered her offer, feeling grounded by her feathery arms around him, and nodded. “Okay,” he muttered. Dolly took him by the hand and began walking for her home, using her free hand to retrieve her phone.

“Hello, mister Papyrus – yes, he’s with me – no, he’s fine – yes –“ she spoke, the tall skeleton’s loud voice emerging on the other end, muffled from the speaker. “Actually, could he spend the night with me? I can bring him home in the morning before school – uh huh – uh huh – yeah – yeah, okay – okay, thanks! I hope mister Sans feels better, goodnight!”

“…so?” Otis mumbled, tugging insistently on her hand. 

“We got the green light! He just says you gotta brush your teeth before bed and that he loves you,” Dolly grinned, nudging him teasingly. “Anyway, you picked a good time to run off like you do; mama’s making stew tonight and if you don’t want any then I’m gonna eat your portion!”

Otis listened to her talk in circles and fill the silence for the both of them, feeling calmer and calmer the further away they traveled from Snowdin. He knew he would have to speak to his fathers again, and soon; but tonight, he could ignore his responsibilities and have stew with his friend, like a normal, un-dangerous kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dolly wasn't supposed to be as prominent a character as she is. I'll try to tone that down in the next chapter.


End file.
